Conjugal
by comewithnattah
Summary: Interracial marriage becomes legal in Georgia. Rick ends up with a life sentence. Michonne comes to visit him in Shane Walsh's penitentiary. Richonne. ONE SHOT.


I always been a man who could have anythang I wanted. People used to say, 'Shane Walsh, is the hand of God in King County'. And I was. I was the starting quarterback in high school. Got injured rescuing my next door neighbor, old man Horvath, from a house fire in my senior year, so I never went pro. But after that, it was like I could walk on water around town.

I knew how to talk to folks, gain their respect, trust, loyalty. My mama called that a god-given talent. Thanks to my influence, my older brother was the mayor, I had a cousin on the bench and I ran the jailhouse. Lotta people don't know the jailhouse is the real seat of power. I oversaw both sides of the law, good guys and bad, and nothin' happened without my say.

It was 1967 and even with everythang I had... even marrying my wife, Lori, who was the reigning beauty queen in KC at the time, I had never been more jealous of a guy than I was of Rick Grimes. For starters, he didn't look like no country boy, but that damn drawl'a his was just as thick as mine. Just a regular ol' cowboy, did ranch work for a farmer name of Greene.

He woulda been somebody's bitch in the pen, but nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to tussle with him, especially after they found out what he done to Negan Weems. Ripped the guy's throat out with his teeth. When he first got here, to look at 'um, you'd never think he coulda done what he did. But it didn't take long for the bars and the chow lines and the yard fights to bring the animal outta Rick that did that to Negan.

That kinda beast was made for prison. I always say only killers survive in prison. And it's always true. Those guys that claim they'd never hurt a fly? Anytime it's true, those guys are dead in a month. But Rick Grimes was survivin'... thrivin', you could even say. You look into that ice cold stare a'his… them blue eyes he had made weaker men scatter.

He wasn't never gonna be a man of no means or nothin'. But he was a pretty sonuva bitch.

He looked like… what's that fellas name? The actor… played that Marine in that movie with Dorothy McGuire... Guy Madison! That's him! Looked like guy Madison. I don't care how dirty he got in the yard, he always looked like he stepped outta a movie.

Wasn't his face what made me jealous, though. I was a handsome bastard my damn self. It was his wife. I hear tell it was an unsavory comment Negan made 'bout her that finally shut his big mouth up for good. I hear Grimes was goin' for a machete next.

Her name was Michonne. The fellas on my crew came in one day goin' on about her. Sayin' how they wasn't _normally_ into colored girls but they'd make an exception for her. Me, I never cared about the color of cunt. But when I seen 'er, boy, I had to agree! She was somethin' special.

You know how it feels when the sun hits you all at once? S'blindin'. Beautiful. But the heat makes you break out into a sweat and every stitch of clothin' sticks to your skin… That was her. It always stumped me how somethin' so dark could be so bright.

They was newlyweds, her and Grimes. That pissed a lot of people off. Even my wife. Just cuz the law said whites and coloreds could marry didn't do much to change the narrow minds in King County. Lots of folks didn't want me to allow the conjugal visits. Got more than a few angry letters and a couple of protestors - Jessie Anderson and her team of fellow bored housewives, who were all jealous he wanted some black girl and not nunna them.

Funny thang is, I was torn down the middle on a decision. On the one hand, I wasn't no fan of Grimes. On the other, I could certainly stand seein' more of that wife of his. And being the contrary bastard I am, I decided everyone in town could kiss my ass.

'Course, I had to personally stand guard just to make sure nobody fucked with her when she came, but she'd always bring me somethin' sweet as a thank you for greasin' the wheels on their visits. Sweet breads, cakes, cobblers cookies, brownies, pies... She was bringin' it for him, of course. But the fact that I got summa what he was gettin'... well, I can't lie… it turned me on. Turned me on somethin' fierce.

So one day she comes, with a plate for me restin' in her hands, covered with a little white napkin. She's smilin' big and bright and beautiful. I know it was cuz she was about to see him, but she couldn't. Not til I said so. Not until I let her go. So I soaked in all that dazzle while she pulled back the hanky and let me grab a slice of soft banana bread from the top of the pile.

We had trailers out behind C block for visits. It was set up nice thanks to the church donatin' furniture: a double bed, clean sheets, a small table, few chairs. Father Gabriel was such a bleedin' heart for the inmates families.

The sun was just about settin'. It was hot out even though it was late September. We was in the middle of an Indian summer and everybody I came in contact with that day was sweaty and musty, except for Michonne. I suppose she was moist with a sheen of sweat, but I couldn't never be sure. She kinda... glistened all the time anyway from whatever oils coloreds use to glow like they do sometime. The wind blew her scent in my face as she approached me. Always smelled like somethin' tropical.

We were outside near the chain link fence, makin' small talk while we waited for Grimes to be brought from his cell. I complimented her on her dress. It was the kinda green like those square party mints that melt in your mouth like butter. She told me she'd made the dress herself. I knew she made it special to drive Grimes crazy. But it was workin' me over pretty good too.

There was all this pretty dark brown skin for me to look at. The top of her dress was a kinda halter and her neckline was kinda like, you know... heart shaped. Her shoulders and breasts looked like scoops of chocolate ice cream. She knew what she was doin', alright. The way that thang hugged her hips and stretched over that bouncin' kaboose 'a hers. God a'Mighty!

I mean… her legs were long and smooth and she wore a white high heeled shoe. They were kinda dusty from her walk from the bus to the prison. It had been a dry week as I recall. Was a long walk from the busses to the prison. I woulda loved to pull off those heels and kiss and suck on those red painted toes of hers. Always had a thang for feet.

But instead, I just ate that sweet square'a bread, askin' 'er if she was keepin' outta trouble. When she nodded, the globes of her white dangly earrings bounced, along with the silky curls in that ponytail at the back of her head. Normally, if I saw her 'round town, her hair wouldn't be that straight. It'd be braided in two rows down 'er back and she'd be wearin' a pair 'a rolled up dungarees and a plain old t-shirt. But today she made a special effort. She was drop dead gorgeous even in her work clothes, but she nearly stopped my heart how she was done up that day.

Then here comes Grimes.

Leon brought him down. Now, if it woulda been anybody else, Leon woulda had 'em by his collar or he woulda been shovin' him every couple steps. Leon can be an ass. But he ain't dare with Rick Grimes. Kept hisself a couple feet behind him. Leon was an ass but he wasn't as dumb as people thought he was.

Anyway, that sum'bitch, Grimes was dressed all in prison blues and he still looked like a fuckin' prince. Kept that dark wavy hair 'a his neat and his arms was near big as mine. I had to stay in mint condition in case a prisoner made a move. Guess he did too. He was normally in the yard with a dumbell in his hand when he wasn't in his cell writing love letters to his wife. And when he wasn't writin' or readin', he was gettin' inked up by old Morgan Jones.

In the short time he'd been here, he had twin rearin' black stallions tattooed on each of his forearms. A devil on his left shoulder and a angel on his right. He had some Latin words spelled out big on his stomach. I saw it when he was doing sit ups in the yard.

Only Latin I know is Semper Fidelis 'cause my grandaddy was a Marine. Morgan told me his tattoo said somethin' 'bout shadows or somethin'. Don't remember exactly.

But I do remember the very first tattoo he got was for her. Said "Michonne" in girly lookin' letters from ear to ear across his neck. I wouldn't never get some chick's name around my neck like a noose. But hey, who knows what I would do if the pussy was good a'nuf?

He looked at me as the guards opened the gate. Watchin' me talk to his wife, I swear his eyes looked like they held a stampede of war horses. I ain't never done him no wrong. Other than runnin' the prison where they put him away. He was just mad at the world, I guess. I sure as hell would be if I was bein' kept away from somethin' as warm and sweet as Mrs. Grimes was.

Him and his wife caught a glimpse of each other and them horses in his eyes ain't stop their stampede, but they wasn't charging to war no more. Them stallions, they kicked up dust, in heat. She forgot all about what she was sayin' to me and drop the plated sweets in my hands. I coulda been a rock in the road for all she cared.

They opened that gate and Rick Grimes comes marchin' down that fenced-in passageway. He had this bow-legged gait when he walked… you could tell him by his walk from a mile away.

I was cordial. 'Evenin' Grimes.' I says. 'Just tellin' your missus, here what a treat her cookin' is. My woman can't cook worth a damn.' I told 'em.

He didn't say nothing back. He hardly never said nothin' because somehow, despite bein' a 24 year-old, shit-shovellin', hay-balin', farm hand, he thought he was better'n us all. Wasn't nothin' he ever said. Just the way he'd look right past you, like you wasn't there. Like you was lower than a boot heel. Like he owned everythang, even though he was gonna spend the rest of his life with a number on his chest.

Anyway, I try not to rile up the inmates but sometimes Grimes' smug bastard brought the smug bastard outta me. So his lady is walkin' ahead of both of us, while me and him are walkin' side by side. So I say, 'Really 'preciate you givin' me a taste a'your goodies, Michonne.'

I see him give me a look out the corner of his eye. My eyes were trained on that round cake a'hers. He'd do this thang where he'd cock his head to the side when his dander was up. And when he did it then, I don't know why, but I couldn't just let it rest. I wanted an answer from him. Somethin' about that day… Grimes just… well like I said I was jealous. I'm man enough to admit it.

So he tilts his head kinda defiantly and I say, 'You got a problem with me thankin' your woman for bein' so sweet to me?'

He stops walkin' and Michonne hears the pause in his steps and she stops too. She turns around with this anxious look on her face. I can see she's prayin' thangs don't escalate. Grimes is facin' me, seethin'. He's in my face, challenging me with a tense jaw and a menacin' look, but he ain't said nothin' yet.

So I relax on my heels and put my hands on my hips, my right hand resting on the heel of my gun, "Somethin' you wanna say to me?" I ask 'em and give him an unbothered grin.

But really, I'm bothered. I'm fuckin' pissed that he's goin' in that trailer with her and I'll be on the other side'a that door while he gets as much as he wants of that sweetness. My eyes leave the anger in his and slip over Michonne's face.

'Whatcha think, Mrs. Grimes? Think your husband got somethin' he wants to say to me?' She shook her head, her pretty brown eyes all wide and fretful. 'Tell 'em I left some goodies for him.' I tell 'er, then I set my sights back on Grimes and look him up and down. I say to 'em, 'But all this talk is makin' me hungry again, puttin' me in a less generous mood.'

Michonne can see this whole visit goin' down hill. She takes a step toward the two of us and says, 'Mister Walsh…'

But I correct her. 'Warden,' I says, pointin' to my badge and name on the front of my shirt while keeping my eyes right on Grimes.

She goes, 'Warden…' and smiles at me real pretty again, layin' on the charm, but I can see how scared she is. She's holdin' her breath. She says, 'Rick's probably just hungry, himself. You boys can get positively ornery when you're hungry. My mother always said 'If your man's stomach is growling, he will too'.'

She reached in her pink canvas overnight bag and pulled out an entire cling-wrapped loaf of banana bread. 'Behave,' she sorta commanded him with a wink and a little more confidence as she waved the treat in his face. In hindsight, she looked at him like she was speakin' in some sorta code.

And just like that, he relaxed his muscles, gave her the tiniest smile and started followin' the sway of that perfect ass again. It was amazin'. She tamed 'em with one word from those soft red lips. Made me think that tattoo of her name was less a noose and more a collar for a leash… and goddamn if I wasn't ready to howl like a mutt right with him.

We get to the rusty tin trailer and Rick holds the little lightweight door open for his wife, then follows her in. I lock the door from the outside. It's a small one-room camper. Front door was the only way in or out and the only window was covered with bars on the outside and the ugliest curtain on the inside. But on this particular day, the wind whipped past the door when they stepped inside and twisted the curtain just enough for me to get a good view of their love den for the night.

Let me tell you, I was never more happy about a gust of wind than I was that day. Any other time, I lock 'em in and walk the grounds. But not that day. That day I sat that plate next to my feet on the ground, wiped the sweat off my brow and snuck a good long peek. What I seen them Grimes do was better than any X-rated movie I ever seen.

He pulled his shirt offa his prison built body and jumped on her quick as a crickett. And he didn't waste nothin'.

She was pullin' at that bow tied at the back of her neck and those gorgeous tits sat up heavy and heavin' and round. He pushed them together. His hands were so rough on that flawless dark skin, pushin' those tits together. He dipped his head and pulled her nipples in to his mouth one after the other.

His hands were harsh, squeezin' and pawin' at her but his lips must've been light as a feather. It was written all over her face how much she liked it. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed. I couldn't hear what she was sayin'. Seemed like he'd stole her breath and she only had the lungs to whisper. But I could read those full lips a'hers. She was just sayin' his name over and over and over again.

He unzipped the back of her dress and it woulda fell to the floor on a skinny woman like my wife, but the hips on Michonne… she had to take her hands outta his hair and wiggle and push her little homemade lure off her body. When she did, I saw she wasn't wearing nothin' under it. I wanted to see a little lace or satin or even cotton. I like a lady in lingerie, all those ruffles and thangs. But when I saw nothin' but that deeper shade of brown and that small patch of black curly hair, I felt my dick move against my leg. Almost like it was stretchin' to take a peek of its own.

I watched him as he pulled at her hips and left those juicy jugs for her lips. I watched him close to see how he would kiss 'er. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he kisses a woman. Too much tongue is a sign of a man who's gonna get off before she does. No tongue at all is the sign of a man who don't even know ladies get off in the first place. But Grimes surprised me.

He kissed her like I woulda.

He knew the secret.

A man uses more than his lips and tongue to kiss. He uses his teeth on her ears. He uses his palms on her throat. You gotta use the bulge in your pants on that other pair of lips til she's wrappin' 'er legs 'round your waist and grabbin' for your cock.

He backed her up, while she slipped her shoes off her pretty feet, til she was wedged between his body and those ugly wood paneled walls. I could see his hand between her thighs. His arm pushed his fingers in and out, while his wrists twisted in rotation. I'm just standin' there with the biggest fuckin' hard-on I've ever had in my life watchin' these two go at it.

Then Michonne starts moanin'. She's got her legs spread wide and they're tremblin' just a little. She's on the balls of her feet and her knees are kinda bent, like she could collapse on the floor at any moment. So she lifts a foot and places it in one of the little foldin' chairs sittin' against the wall. I couldn't tell how many fingers he has slidin' in and outta that pussy a'hers, but he had her steady.

Michonne's face was angled down and their foreheads were resting against each other. Grimes was still in his britches, pushing his pelvis against hers and then she'd push back, like a tug of war. His hard-on must've been right on that sensitive little button women hide between their pussy lips, under a little hood.

You know most men don't pay attention to that little button. But I sure as hell do. You put the right friction in that spot and women go all slack-jawed and glazey-eyed. Just like Grimes had his missus.

I didn't even realize I was rubbin' my cock through my pants 'til her breathy voice brought me out of my daze. She told him she was close to cummin'. She asked him to tell her he loved her and he put his mouth right to her ear and whispered it too low for me to hear. He said more than I love you, though.

His lips would move and Michonne would answer, 'Yes!' Then he'd ask her something else and she'd cry out into his shoulder, 'Please, Rick!'.

When she came, she broke down with a sob that sounded drenched in honey. She was loud but her voice was sharp and delicate as a pencil point.

I could feel a cool wetness in my pants from the trickle comin' from my cock. And I turned to see if her cries had captured any of the other guards attentions. Thankfully, to my right and my left, I was all alone. Not another soul in sight. And I needed some serious solitude for what happened next.

Michonne fell into the seat beside her. Oh, she was spent and Rick was standin' over her pullin' at his belt to get his dick out. Meantime, Mrs. Grimes is comin' around from her stupor, lickin' her lips at the sight of his cock. Now I ain't no queer or nothin', but ol' Rick had more than a mouthful in his hand for her. He was jerkin' it slow and deliberate and she looked positively hypnotized by every inch.

She leaned forward and he angled her face with the tips of his fingers, gentle-like. She smiled up at 'em. Her eyes were still lidded and dreamy, but she was a real good girl. Knew what he wanted and she was more than happy to oblige.

I never got that kinda look from my woman when she was on her knees. I mean, sure, I got a blowjob whenever I wanted one. But the difference between what I got at home and what Grimes was gettin' was like the difference between a slice of bologna and a prime cut of steak. Juicy and hot.

Fuck's sake! The way she was gulpin' him down! I pulled out my stiffy and started strokin' along. I ain't ashamed. It was the only civilized thang to do. You see somethin' that beautiful, that sexy, that unforgettable, you gotta join in.

The tip of my head was leakin' and I made good use of it pumpin' my fist over my cock. I could just imagine how good it woulda felt to have Michonne's soft lips wrapped around me, rock hard as I was. I closed my eyes, envisionin' her face while I listened to her sweet lips smack and slurp along her husband's dick.

Grimes was groanin' in delight and sputterin' the dirtiest thangs in one breath and sayin' the sweetest lovey dovey shit in the next. Made me think, maybe I could stand bein' a little sweeter when I'm poundin' my own wife's tonsils balls deep.

The squeak from the metal feet of the room's only table slidin' 'cross the linoleum floor broke my concentration and I opened my eyes to see Michonne bent facedown over the table, presentin' her ass, round and velvety like the peaches of our great state. The way Grimes dropped to one knee to eat her up, you woulda thought he plucked 'er right offa tree.

I mean, I couldn't say if ol' Rick had'a face fulla ass or if Michonne had'a ass fulla face. However you wanna classify it, she musta been delicious judgin' from the satisfied sounds from Grimes. And he musta been recitin' the Lord's prayer between those plump cheeks judgin' from the number of times she called God down.

He didn't stay there long, though, and just as I felt my balls start to tighten, he stood up and pushed inside her. Hard.

He fucked her. Hard.

Guess he used up all the sweet talk and the gentle touches. Maybe he knew her pussy needed the kinda rammin' that only a killer like him could give. Well, that's sure'a nuff what he gave 'er.

'Harder,' she managed to say and harder he managed to go. She'd lost the ribbon holding her hair and it was starting to poof up around her face, a few straightened strands stuck to her slick skin.

It was hot in that little trailer. The window barely opened and the only relief from the heat was a box fan in the corner. The 80° weather had him shining too and the ink on his skin looked like wet paint on a sign.

Rick had a tight grip on her hips and her cocoa brown skin was plump between his widened fingers. That little folding table knocked against the flimsy trailer wall, makin' a helluva racket. Loud as the knock against the wall was, Michonne was louder. I never heard Michonne use language so crude.

'Fuck me, Rick…'

'Fuck the shit outta me…' she was sayin', 'I'd do anythang for this big ass dick…'

Holy Fuck! I couldn't believe the timid little lady that I always pictured in an apron and oven mittens had such a filthy mouth. But after a couple more of those boosted dick strokes from her old man, she had a lot less to say. I don't know. Maybe one of those damn heavyweight thrusts knocked her senseless. Only sound she made was a kinda wail, like you might hear at a funeral. I guess Grimes was on his way to lay that sweet wet pussy to rest.

Oh, damn! She sounded like she was gonna melt into a fuckin' puddle of warm chocolate puddin' when she came that time. And Rick Grimes confirmed it. 'You cum on this dick, 'Chonne.' he told her. 'I wanna watch you melt right here in the palms of my hands. Lemme take you and drop you right in the middle of the sky. I wanna watch you float back down…'

I never heard no talk like that. Maybe he read it in one of those books he always had his nose in. But it musta been the kinda shit she liked, 'cause she turned her forehead flat against the table and called out his name with almost a sorta sudden shock.

Well, I heard that and I shot my load thick and warm over my knuckles. I just kept pumpin' over my dick. I was still hard and I wanted some more. But that was cursed that tight little pussy for bein' so good and then he came too with a low grunt like a damn bull.

I cleaned myself up with a handkerchief from my pocket while I caught my breath. Michonne was making her way to the bed and she fell over on the mattress in a heap. I was lookin' down to wrestle my half-chub back inside my uniform pants when I heard Grimes call to me,

"Hey Warden," he says, walkin' up to the window I'd been peepin' at, "If you go back for seconds on that plate my wife brought you, don't forget to wash your hands." He smirked and pulled the curtain down, blockin' my view.

I couldn't see 'em no more, but I heard a loud smack connect on Michonne's ass I assumed from the sound of her giggle and then she says, in a voice softer than cotton candy, 'Unless you want it to be banana _nut_ bread.'

I don't know when they made me at the door. Honestly, I didn't care.

They laughed it up while I walked off to pull up a chair beside their door. I thought, _fuck 'um_. I get the last laugh. Rick Grimes is still gonna be here til he's old and gray. And I decided, I was gonna be catchin' this show on a regular from now on. Who knows, maybe one of these days I'll leave Grimes in lock-up and spend some time in the trailer with his wife, if she's agreeable.

She'd do anythang for 'em. I had no doubt about that. So if takin' care'a me was the only way to get her visits, I was sure she'd be serving up much more than dessert if that's what it took.

But it never worked out that way.

I dozed off, like I normally do when I bust a good one. I was in the middle of a dream about Michonne's feet when I woke up to the prison siren, dogs barkin', searchlights roamin' over the barbed wire fence and my walkie cracklin' 'bout a breach. I shot up from my seat, nearly landed on my ass when the chair fell out from under me since I was leanin' back on two of its legs.

I tripped over the plate by my feet and fumbled for the key to the trailer. I saw that a hole had been cut into the tin wall near the back of the room and a note hung over the openin'. A piece of paper punctured on the jagged edge of the metal hole said,

 _ **You can thank Mrs. Grimes.**_

Had a smiley face drawn under it. I balled it up and put it in my pocket. _Real fuckin' cute_ , I thought to myself. I was pissed but I couldn't help but laugh...

I walked in slow and stunned while Leon ran up behind me with the details comin' at me a mile a minute. I couldn't hear him, though. I was still a little groggy and tryin' to wrap my brain around what I was seein'. I just looked around the room.

Michonne's pretty dress was laid out neat on the bed. The banana bread sat in crumbles on a layer of cellophane on the table. The outline of some kinda cuttin' tool was left behind in the loaf.

She'd smuggled in that contraband and waved it right in front of my face. Me and my whole team was so busy lookin' at her ass in that mint green dress and bein' mesmerized by that smile that we all let her fuck us right in the ass.

Can you believe that? I was jerkin' off to my own ass fuckin' and I didn't even know it.

Anyway, I heard they made it outta the states to some island… Saint Martin or Martinique or somewhere like that. Guess they lived happily ever after. Michonne deserved that, she woulda never got it in KC. Her husband didn't deserve shit, though. Especially not her.

But I guess if a dirty bastard like me gets to have all the good stuff I got, why shouldn't an asshole like Rick Grimes.


End file.
